Normalcy in this Strange Time

I'm just back from a well-established Maine morning routine - 6:15am beach bootcamp with the most amazing group of people, followed by coffee from 7 to 8am.  As one of my friends has been known to say after 8am, "the best part of the day is over".

And she's right. After I have some breakfast (and rinse out my mouth with salt water to reestablish the PH in my mouth to avoid mouth sores - thank you cancer), I have to pack up and head down to MA for chemo #2 tomorrow.  I am very grateful that I am able to continue with this, shall I say, "sacred" morning tradition in Maine.  I love to workout watching the sunrise, and the group of people that shows up three mornings a week, all year long, is inspiring.  Puffers, hats, gloves, and headlamps were part of outfits this morning. 

I will continue to focus on showing up to the things I love.  The week after my lumpectomy, I ran bootcamp for the week (we take turns bringing workouts for the group) as I wasn't really mobile. While I was frustrated I couldn't DO the workout, it was enough at that moment to be on the beach with the same group that's been working out together for decades (I think I'm only 9-10 years in).  Oh, and my husband bought a megaphone for me that week, so that was both fun and funny.  "Drop and give me 20!" I hope to continue doing bootcamp through the winter, although I'll be missing the Wednesday morning workouts due to chemo.  I'll be a Tuesday/Friday girl for the time being.

Tomorrow night, there is another event that's been part of my life for almost as long - going to Boston Speaker Series.  We've had tickets to this seasonal series for about 8 or 9 years now.  7-8 times a year, we head to dinner with the same 3 couples, catch up, and then to Symphony Hall to see the speaker of the evening.  Over the years, we've seen people like Dan Rather, Teresa May, Jay Leno.  It's great fun.

The kicker is that the event is on Wednesday nights.  And now chemo is on Wednesdays.  My husband thought we should give away our tickets.  I'm holding out, although there are a lot of questions floating around my head.  Will I be tired from the Ativan I need to take to cold cap?  Will I look funny since I have to rinse (not wash) the protective conditioner out of my hair after cold capping (and I can't dry it)?  Does Candace need to come out (probably)?  Should I even be in Symphony Hall with a lowered immunity (yes, I would wear a mask - getting sick is not an option for me now)?  Should I skip dinner and just go to the event?

As much as I'd like to go, I'm having doubts. Time will reveal what we do.  I know that my husband won't go without me, and I really want his life to be as normal as possible too.  I hate that my cancer is effecting his life.  Sucks.

While it's good to have typed out my thoughts, the best part of the day is indeed over.  I should hop in a shower (and wash my hair!), start packing up, and get ready for Chemo Day Two. xo J

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